


The Ballad of Bold Teuber the Robber

by arrogantemu



Category: Settlers of Catan (Board Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:53:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrogantemu/pseuds/arrogantemu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They sing this song on the mountains high, in the cities that you call home,<br/>They sing it down in Schafenburg Town, on the hills where the sheep do roam,<br/>They sing it over the mugs of ale in the halls where the gamers play,<br/>Of Teuber, bold Teuber the Robber, and the shepherd he stole away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of Bold Teuber the Robber

**Author's Note:**

  * For [furloughday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/furloughday/gifts).



The word's gone out from the golden plain where the nodding wheat stalks grow  
The word's gone up the mountain rocks where the sparkling freshets flow,  
The word's gone into the forest, where the woodsman toils in the glen,  
Of Teuber, Teuber the Robber - bold Teuber has moved again!

He comes in a cloak of darkness and no man can see his face  
Nor hear the sound of his hoofbeats as he rides from place to place,  
They say that he came from the desert, some blasted and wasted land,  
But woe to the farm and the field that falls to the Robber's hand!

No matter the riches and fortune your town or your city enjoys  
When Teuber the Robber is holding court, you're one of the Robber's toys  
He'll eat of your food, he'll drink of your wine, he'll take what you hold most dear,  
You'll see none of your labor in cattle or crop while Teuber the Robber is here. 

The land rings out with whisper and shout of the Robber's deadly fame,  
The rich men shake in their leather boots at the sound of the Robber's name  
For on the day that the Robber strikes, he'll come to demand his fee.  
One half the wealth of a wealthy land, and none may deny or flee.

The sun rode high over Schafenburg, all on a summer's day  
The bold Robber rode o'er the rolling hills, ready to start his play,  
As if he heard some secret word all whispered into his ear,  
He thundered down to the heart of town, "Good burghers! I am here!"

"You must stand, stand and deliver! You know that I mean no ill,  
But I'll see you open your treasure-house, I'll eat and I'll drink my fill.  
For this is my day, good people, and you know I must claim my fee  
Your life was blessed by your land and luck, now blessing must fall to me."

The burghers quaked in their woolen coats, the children began to cry,  
But up there stepped a shepherd lad with a dark and a roving eye.  
"We will not open our treasure-house, we will not pay your fee,  
No meat, no drink, no land or luck you shall have from them or me!"

The Robber threw his bold head back, and a loud laugh laughed he,  
"There's not a man in all Catan stands between my will and me!  
Then step you back, bold shepherd lad, take back those hasty words,  
And maybe you'll graze your flock again on the hills of Schafenburg."

The Robber drew his pistol and prepared to make a stand,  
But the shepherd flung a rock from his sling, and knocked it from his hand  
The Robber drew out his trusty blade, and made for the bold young man  
But the shepherd drew out his stout oak staff, and thus the battle began.

It was hammer and tongs in the city square; they fought for half a day  
But the Robber's blade began to dart, and knocked his staff away.  
"Yield!" he cried, "for I have your life, and now I will take my fee!"  
"I yield," then spoke the shepherd, "for fair you have beaten me,

Then take our sheep and our timber - they're nothing but wool and sticks,   
Yet Schafenburg will rise again, for we serve the will of the Six!  
Tis they who bless our fields and flocks, their fortune lies on our lands,  
And we shall be building and prospering while you waste in the desert sands!"

The Robber took off his cloak and hat, he lifted up his mask,  
"Everyone wonders why I come, yet nobody seems to ask-  
Then know that I as well as you am under the will of heaven,  
You say you serve the will of the Six - I serve the will of Seven.

Tis they who send me over the land, lest any grow too bold  
When wealth and power grow too much for a single town to hold,  
You herd your flocks on your quiet hills, you serve as best you can  
So serve I herding settlers from coast to coast of Catan.

But have you seen the dusty quarries clotted with bricks and stones?  
The deep and echoing forests, the mountains with iron bones?  
Or would you visit the bustling ports on an open and angry sea?  
Then come and ride all by my side, down the longest road with me!

The shepherd gave him a long, long look, eye to roving eye,  
Then held out his hand, and mounted up on the horse so broad and high.  
The Robber tossed him a coal-black hat, and sat up straight and tall,  
He cried "It is done! We are gone again, for I hear the Seven call!"

They sing this song on the mountains high, in the cities that you call home,  
They sing it down in Schafenburg Town, on the hills where the sheep do roam,  
They sing it over the mugs of ale in the halls where the gamers play,  
Of Teuber, bold Teuber the Robber, and the shepherd he stole away.


End file.
